


Cut deep, twist fast

by Shulik



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, F/M, Gen, Implied Torture, M/M, Purgatory, otherwise known as that purgatory crossover everyone on tumblr'd talked about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shulik/pseuds/Shulik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you have any family?" Laura asks softly, keeps her eyes trained on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Laura’s teeth are bloody and her hair that has long become a tangle of dreads, matted, dirty- it swings in her face as she looms over the tied up shifter in front of them. 

“I swear, I don’t know-“ the kid, and Dean can see that it’s just a kid, young and still scared for all the monstrous things it’s probably done while topside, the kid blubbers in the face of Laura’s steely eyed intensity, the ease that she holds herself with, the violence restrained in her every breath. 

“See, here’s the thing- I don’t believe you,” Laura says nonchalantly and takes out the wicked looking bone-knife that she had tried to stab Dean with on the first night. He’d like to say that their relationship’s improved but apparently hell has frozen over because more often than not, Dean will trust a vampire, will trust Benny over Laura and Benny refuses to leave her. He refuses to talk about her too, why she hates Dean the way she does, not like most of the things in here with a pure kind of rage that they save for hunters but with a special, personal feeling. 

Laura’s unsettling enough that Dean does all he can never to be alone with her.

“I don’t know, god-“ the kid’s crying now, fat tears of red that mix with his snot and drip disgustingly down his ripped shirt, clawed open by Laura when she’d thrown him across the clearing, roaring with rage. 

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping _him_?” the shifter glares at Dean, spits something bloody and disgusting in his direction but keeps his words aimed at the werewolf crouched in front of him, half-feral and more than prepared to rip him apart for what she needs. 

“I’m not,” Laura says, smiling. It transforms her face, that smile, breaks something open, something hard, impenetrable and makes her look insanely, mind-numbingly _beautiful_. 

“You’re… not?” 

Dean can see the kid’s confusion, the way he almost starts to _hope_ at her words. 

“No,” Laura says softly and her smile starts to grow mean, sharp and bloody around the edges, like a slowly unsheathed blade, the potential for death that you can’t look away from. “Do you have any family?” she cocks her head, looks at the kid from beneath her lashes and the gesture’s so incongruous with the way that she’s still holding onto her knife, the easy grip that she has on the white handle that even Dean’s fooled into a false sense of relief for a minute. 

It’s only Benny’s sharp inhale that brings Dean down. Lets him see the taut pressure between Laura’s shoulders, the sharpness of her canines as she smiles. 

“No,” the kid shakes his head, eyes big and confused and shit. Shit. It’s time like this when Dean has to forcibly remind himself of what he’s doing. What these things are. What they’re _capable_ of. “No, I’m alone.”

Laura doesn’t say anything for a moment and the beat hangs heavy in the clearing, monsters roaming just beyond the borders of Benny’s runes. 

“That’s too bad,” she finally speaks, soft and sure and full of conviction- “I have a little brother. He’s the only family I have left in the world, the only family that’s still alive. He’s not doing too good without me,” she exhales and Dean doesn’t know how, can’t understand it but somehow, he finds himself having taken two steps closer, watching the way that Laura’s eyes track the shifter’s movements, the lazy predator’s grace in her crouch. 

It’s only Laura’s eyes that give her away. 

“So I’m going need you to tell me where the angel is,” Laura bares her teeth again, “because without him, I can’t get back to where I need to be, where my _brother_ needs me to be. And you’ve seen what I’m capable of, what I’ve done. How much longer do you want to leave me here, trapped with the rest of you, hunting for a way out?” 

Two broken ribs, torn-out fingernails, burns on half his body, more abrasions and bruises than should be possible and it’s the threat of Laura, a girl younger than _Sam_ , it’s the threat of a big sister, a _werewolf_ that does it for him. 

The kid breaks with a sob. “There’s a clearing not too far from here…”


	2. Chapter 2

Blood tastes nothing like copper or pennies or anything like the bullshit descriptions in the rose-colored books that Anise used to read, tucking them away into her secret hiding places. 

Blood tastes salty, a little sweet with a faint tang of something earthy underneath. 

Most of all, blood tastes like the possibility of death and the moment when life hangs in the balance, Laura snarling, claws sunk fully into Peter’s chest, binding them tight enough for Peter to feel like a part of her. Derek’s face, face determined as he flings his body off the porch, running to stop her, fully aware that he won’t make it in time, the betas cowering from her and most of all- Stiles standing with the Argent girl at the treeline, a crossbow held steadily in her hands. 

Peter looks deranged, trying to fight as hard as he can but he’s no match for her, Laura after almost two years in purgatory, fighting for her life every minute every day. 

Nobody’s a match for her right now. 

Peter’s fighting her, struggling to get away, mouth dripping with Laura’s blood and her shoulder stings but it’s almost shallow, the feeling, like the ghost of pain floating over her skin. 

Nothing goes as deep as her need to make sure that Peter’s last lifeblood is spilled by her hand.

“Laura stop!” Derek’s screaming, more of a guttural growl than the voice of her baby brother. 

She had raised him, she had stayed up every night of his birthday, a single cupcake with a candle between them as they continued their mother’s tradition, pretending that it didn’t hurt like hell to act like the space between them wasn’t filled with secrets laced tightly with guilt. 

She had raised him. She had given everything for him. 

“Laura _please_!” Derek’s voice breaks and Laura’s eyes snap up, Peter’s neck bared in a tight, painful bow beneath her hands, her fangs a scant inch away from his skin, where his blood beats hot and alive. 

Derek stops before her, palms held up, open and submissive, his neck tilted _just so_ and he’d be the perfect picture of a submissive beta if it wasn’t for the blood-red glow of his eyes. 

“ _Please_ Laur,” he begs and his eyes flick down at their uncle, his life held simple and easy in Laura’s hands. 

Laura’d raised Derek. She’d given everything to make sure that he had enough to eat, had worked shitty waitressing jobs one after another to put food on the table, to pay for their dingy, empty apartment in Brooklyn. 

She’d raised him. He’s her brother. 

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers and it’s the voice of her sensitive baby brother who used to crawl into her bed whenever it was thundering outside and the preserve would howl with foreign noises, the wind whipping between the trees and attacking their windows with more ferocity than either of them felt comfortable with. 

Laura’d raised him.

He’s the reason why the rest of her family are dead. 

She lowers her lashes and she can feel Boyd’s inhale behind her, silent, dark Boyd who’d betrayed Derek and then tried to atone for it the best that he could. 

Her body feels easy, loose and she goes limp, watching from beneath her lashes as the clearing relaxes around her. 

Derek drops his defensive stance, the betas stop flashing fangs at her and at the treeline- Kate Argent’s niece lowers her bow. 

That’s when Laura strikes, faster than any of them can track, she rips Peter’s jugular out, spitting out the meat and gristle and tearing Peter’s head off in one brutal yank. 

The clearing breaks out into chaos, Derek howling as he drops to his knees, Erica retching loudly as Isaac grips her around the waist, stops her from dropping to her knees into the mess. 

Laura hears the arrow before she sees it, she whirls in the air, catching it with two fingers and throws it straight into her target. There’s a grunt of pain and Stiles’ shout, but Laura’s already standing up, straightening slowly as she watches Peter’s head roll with the momentum of her movement. 

His eyes stare blankly at the autumn blue sky. It’s the color of her father’s eyes. The color of Peter’s eyes that are clouding with the grey film of death. 

She doesn’t look at Derek, still on his knees, still staring at the ground, at his hands. 

She walks towards the trees and towards the two humans still struggling there. 

Allison Argent is pinned to the tree, the arrow that Laura had thrown at her embedded so deeply into her shoulder that only the feathers are still visible and Laura knows that the tip has passed through soft human flesh into the trunk. She’s pinned, trapped and there’s no way in hell that she’ll be able to get away before Laura makes it over to her. 

Stiles tries to get in between them, tries to protect his best friend’s little girlfriend. Laura remembers watching Scott McCall from the shadows of the treelines and wondering how somebody so clueless could still be alive. 

“Hey stop, _stop_ Laura-“ Stiles tries, shoving at Laura’s chest ineffectually. He smells like his meds, fear and determination. 

Laura looks down at where his hands are trying to hold her back. She can feel his pulse skittering up his palms, fast, stuttering as she lifts her eyes and lets them glow. 

Stiles’s quick glance behind her, toward the ground is enough to let Laura know why he thought it was a good idea touching her. Derek’s always had a weakness for him, for his useless human body, for his cocky human sensibilities, had let Stiles push him around, run his mouth, exert whatever pathetic authority that Stiles has over him. 

Laura bares her teeth at him. It’s not a smile. If he was a werewolf, Stiles would have realized that. Unfortunately, he’s just a human and while Laura would have felt bad about this once upon a time, the last time someone in her family trusted a human- they burned the rest of the family to the ground. 

Stiles relaxes when he sees her snarl of a smile. 

That’s good. 

That means he probably won’t get a concussion when Laura backhands him away from Allison and he flies across the clearing, body dropping with a sick thud as his head bounces on the earth. 

Allison might talk a good game about being on the werewolves’ side now, Laura’d stood outside her windows enough to hear her promises to the rest of the pack, lips trembling with supressed tears and guilt and shame, but standing before Laura now, fully aware of just what she’s facing- Allison Argent’s a hunter through and through. 

She tilts her chin high, staring down Laura with a hate-filled, steady gaze. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Allison says and her voice only trembles on the last syllable. 

“That’s good,” Laura smiles truthfully this time and leans closer, watches Allison’s pretty brown eyes, _Kate’s_ eyes dilate with fear. It’s fine, it’s a natural response to a predator fully in control of your life. What gives Laura a healthy dose of respect for the girl is the lack of tears, lack of anything more obvious than the terrified thudding of Allison’s heart and the tremble of her fingers around the arrow in her shoulder. 

Laura smiles wider and shoves the arrow fully _through_ Allison. 

Allison screams, a reedy sound of pain that echoes in the clearing, bouncing off the charred remains of the house that her family took from Laura. 

The arrow emerges miraculously whole in Laura’s hands, the ends bent slightly even after going through Allison’s flesh, the tree. 

Allison drops to her knees, sobbing loudly and Laura can hear Scott McCall running to them from town, moving faster and faster towards his girlfriend. 

Laura crouches beside her, smoothes the hair from Allison’s forehead in a parody of concern. Allison’s flinches away from her and the movement makes her give out another scream. 

“Look at you,” Laura says wonderingly, stroking the sweaty skin of Allison’s forehead, “thinking you’re so big and tough, running around, thinking you’re the baddest thing around and you’ve never been properly _hurt_ , not really. Things are always protecting you, aren’t they? Your father, your boyfriend, your _aunt_ ,” Laura spits. 

“You tried to kill _him_ ,” Laura lifts Allison’s tear-stained face by her chin at where Laura’s brother has crawled towards Stiles, has his head cradled gently in his hands, body hunched protectively over his fragile human bones. Derek doesn’t lift his head to meet Laura’s eyes, only hunches forward more, like he can protect Stiles from her. “And that’s after your psycho bitch of an aunt took away our lives, our family, his _virginity_ -” Laura strokes Allison’s hair, her claws sliding closer and closer to her human skin. 

It would be so easy, to rip it all off her, slice it off in one swift motion.

Laura’d done that before. 

In Purgatory, she’d taken a werehyena girl’s scalp right off, and the girl had taken a beat to die, a beat where she’d stared horrified and a little relieved that Laura was finally finished with her. 

Laura drops Allison’s head. Scott is getting closer. He wouldn’t be able to walk away from her and Laura doesn’t actually _want_ to kill him, but she would, she’d do it so easily and so quickly that Scott wouldn’t even realize it. 

“You’re never going to be able to shoot straight again,” Laura says conversationally as she tilts Allison against the tree, holds her wounded shoulder, “not after this. The muscle will never heal properly and you’ll always be in pain. That’s a reminder,” Laura frowns and then stick her fingers _into_ Allison’s shoulder, digging deeply into the blood as Allison screams beneath her hands. “There,” Laura wipes her hand on Allison’s pretty new leather jacket, watches her blood stain the material, “I’m going to let you keep your pretty little head in exchange for your arm, for your talent.” 

She stands up, straightens fully. Doesn’t look at where Derek still can’t meet her eyes. At Isaac and Erica, clutching at each other with a death grip. 

“I’m leaving town, I’m done here-“ she says quietly to the one she knows had been listening for her since she’s come to town. Had followed her through the trees and the darkness, stood silent and still as Laura had gathered information. 

“Do you want to come with me?” she finally glances over her shoulder, meets his golden beta eyes and lets herself smile one of her old smiles. The Laura before would have been a creature of jokes and laughter, of teasing at breakfast and diners at three in the morning, the Laura before would have been drawn to his quiet strength, his intelligence, loyalty. 

The Laura before, she would have been twenty two when she died. 

Only a year older than Derek. 

She holds her hand out to him. It’s still stained with a combination of Peter and Allison’s blood. 

Boyd doesn’t hesitate before stepping forward, letting his fingers curl around hers, skin hot and smooth against Laura’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Boyd says in the direction of Erica and Isaac, and then steps in step with Laura, follows her into the darkness, away from the clearing and lets himself be led forward.


End file.
